


So Tied Up

by Bun (Kymopoleia)



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Max is 18, future au + teacher/student
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 04:46:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12833586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kymopoleia/pseuds/Bun
Summary: The best and worst thing that ever happened to Max was coming into class the first cold day of winter to find that his usual english teacher was missing, replaced by a substitute.AKA, things quickly get out of hand.





	So Tied Up

**Author's Note:**

> max is 18 and daniel is probably like  
> 26/27 ish, having been 19 when max went to camp.
> 
> also i'm not here for any anti nonsense, just chill and if u don't like it, don't read, okay?

The best and worst thing that ever happened to Max was coming into class the first cold day of winter to find that his usual english teacher was missing, replaced by a substitute.

Max had english in the last period of the day, and he'd just turned eighteen over the summer. Every minor inconvenience made him consider leaving school and risking his uncle's wrath. Every time he'd entered the room before this, he'd been tired from a long day and a longer night, and usually he ended up using the period as a kind of naptime. The teacher was an ancient lady named Mrs. Spriz, and she was too old and feeble to successfully get anyone into the activities. The grades lowered and she got more shrill and Max just brought headphones into the period.

But that first cold day, with his fur-lined jacket and headphones in his pocket, with his hair messed up and the bags under his eyes deep and dark, there was someone new and different.

Where Mrs. Spriz had been tiny, this man towered over them. He had to duck to get through the doorframe successfully, his blonde hair never quite managing to get through unscathed. He was wearing a pale yellow button up with the sleeves rolled up above his elbows, a gold watch, long white pants with a gold belt. He had a pair of white boots, laced up perfectly, and on the back of Mrs. Spriz's ancient chair, his light brown leather jacket lay.

He introduced himself as Mr. Wake. Their teacher had suffered a stroke and was in the hospital, with chances of recovery looking slim. So he'd been called in, and until further notice he'd be their teacher.

Max tried to get away with napping, but the sensation of fingers ruffling his hair and touching the nape of his neck kept that dream from becoming a reality. He shivered every time the man touched him, and since he sat in the furthest back seat of the room, and the man liked to stand next to him with a hand on his neck, he found himself shivering a lot.

The room wasn't normally cold, but today Mr. Wake had opened the windows wide, watching with a smile as the students shivered. He said it kept them on their toes, and every student stayed awake to participate.

Max in particular found himself freezing. Under the jacket, which wasn't his nicest or the warmest, he'd opted for a 3/4 sleeve t-shirt, and just a pair of sweatpants, not that warm either. His teeth chattered so badly that he stuffed the meat of his thumb between his lips, face blushing with embarrassment and still shivering from the cold and from the man.

The class went by quickly.

When the bell rang, the other students left quickly, bright eyed and awake.

Mr. Wake ruffled his hair one more time.

"You didn't participate much, Max." He purrs.

"F-ffuck you." Max stammers, grabbing his bag and tearing out of the room.

The next day went much the same.

Every time that they had class, the room was kept frozen, and Mr. Wake hovered over him, using the board in the back of the room and trying to engage him in activities and conversation. Every time he tried Max kept his mouth closed and narrowed his eyes and ignored the chill in his bones.

So it went.

For two months.

And then the worst thing happened.

Max's uncle was the kind of asshole who, despite his sister and Max's father being doctors, didn't believe in most modern medicine. Well, more specifically, he didn't believe in medicine related to gender and heats.

Max was an omega. It wasn't his fault, that was just what the genes led to and how his body presented. He hated how soft his limbs were, the slight puffiness of his chest, the softness of his crotch, the way his hipbones didn't poke out sharply anymore. As a child he'd been a stick figure embodied, now he was soft and squishy and still painfully, painfully short.

And he was an adult.

Eighteen.

But his uncle, oh, his uncle. The man had argued when Max's mother agreed to put him on suppressants, grumbling every time Max's heat spiked and the teen got away with a few afternoons of cramps and crying into his pillow. He'd suffered for five years, glaring at his nephew and punishing him in other ways for his "subversion of nature".

And then, on Max's eighteenth birthday, his uncle had poured his bottle of suppressants down the drain. Grinned. Turned on the garbage disposal, the water, watched his nephew's face turn from shock to embarrassed anger.

It wasn't like he could tell his mother or father. Both betas, they wouldn't quite understand.

They wouldn't have believed him.

So his heat crept forward, and the stomachaches began.

If Max were a beta, he would have never had this problem. If he'd been an alpha his uncle would have respected him, maybe even not have been such a terror as Max grew up.

But his luck had never been good, and he was an omega.

Max entered the english classroom with a blush semi-permanently on his cheeks, shoulders hunched as he tried to hide himself and keep himself from reacting to the smells around him.

His nose worked fine, just stating that. But... admittedly, usually he didn't pay attention to what it noticed. It was easier to keep his head down, not sniffing the room like a fucking bloodhound.

Today, though, every scent blasted his senses like a tsunami's wave hitting a beach.

He was shaking by the time he reached his scent. The other students were all confused overwhelming messes, but most of them smelled muted, calmer. Like there was a warm, cottony thing wrapped around them, muffling their scents. Doubtless, it was the suppressants.

But underneath all of that, there was the thick, unmistakeable musk of an alpha.

It went straight to his head and, unfortunately, his crotch.

Max bit his lip and leaned down to press his forehead to his desk.

For once the window was closed, and there was a space heater by the back board.

Max was going to boil to death.

His thighs quivered as the smell started to get thicker, rolling over the room in waves. When he'd come in the teacher hadn't been there, but by now Mr. Wake was stepping back in.

It didn't take a genius to figure it out.

Mr. Wake was older than him, but he didn't know how much older. The man admitted he was the youngest of his colleagues, and that was a bit reassuring, but it wasn't enough.

"Max?"

He glances up, slowly, at the blonde man.

There's a hand on his shoulder.

Max swallows thickly.

There's a battle in the man's eyes, and the teen notices his nose flare for a second. Of course he smelled it, of course he knew. His classmates were young and stupid, but any adult knew what to do.

"Stay after class."

His hand pulls away.

Class goes by slowly.

The room is too warm and Max just buries his face in his arms, thighs shaking as his body begins to produce slick.

It'd never done that before.

He's sure it'll look disgusting, that if he tried to move there'd be a dark spot on his sweatpants, that the other students would have no idea what'd happened. He also knows that his body is overworking itself producing its scent, and with the heater right behind him, blowing air forward, it's spread over the room.

He can hear the other students shifting and sniffing, hear one or two whispering about how hot it was. He heard layers being shed and breathing get heavy, and he pressed his thighs together and bit his lip to hide the soft whimpers building up in the back of his throat.

For the first time, Mr. Wake stays to the front of the room.

By the time class is over, Max is sweating and rubbing his thighs together to get some sort of pressure, his body starting to be overcome by the heat-driven lust. He was already exhausted from a day of fighting it, so now it was too easy to just give in.

The bell rings, and he hardly notices it.

The other students leaving is a blur, not one he is able to spare any thought to, but he does hear the sharp sound of a lock turning.

"Max."

He freezes.

"Sit up."

It clicks in his head that the only scents still in the room, other than the ghosts of everyone else, were his own, and the alpha's.

He sits slowly, shoulders shaking and bottom lip wobbling.

Mr. Wake cracks a smile. "Stand."

That takes more effort, Max leaning heavily on his desk.

"You're going through your heat." It's a statement, not a question. The teen appreciates this.

"Y-yeah." Max's fingers curl on the desk.

"Have you ever been through one before?"

"Not... not like this."

"Have you ever had sex?"

His breath hitches.

He remembers kissing Nikki when he was thirteen at camp, he remembers making out with Sarah D. under the bleachers in freshman year, he remembers the first time he ever gave a blowjob last year, with a guy who he thought he liked but who then spread rumors about how slutty Max was, and worse, never returned the favor.

"Not really."

"What have you done."

"I... I sucked a dick once." Max swallows thickly, his body craving the taste in a way it never had before.

"Come here."

Max wobbles forward.

It's hard to understand why he's listening, why his legs move without his consent towards the voice. He isn't sure he'll ever be able to explain it.

After a moment, he's in front of the man, head tilted back to look up at him.

There's a hand tracing his jaw.

"Do you remember me?"

At the close, Max sees some faint scars, including two massive ones on the man's forearms, diagonally from the crook of his elbow to the base of his thumb, on both sides. He sees the clear blue eyes and the small, reddish nose, the thick eyebrows, the smirk.

"You- you're," His voice is small.

"Daniel."

That sent another chill down his spine.

"How?"

"Are you really in a position to be asking questions?"

The man skims his fingers down Max's sides and then, very quickly, unzips his hoodie and pushes it back. The fabric pools around Max's elbows and his breath hitches.

"If I take care of your problem," Daniel smoothes his palm over Max's chest and neck, sending nervous butterflies through him. "You're mine."

"Yours? Wh-what does that mean?"

Daniel grins.

Max shivers.

"It means you're _mine_."

The whispered "please" is falling from Max's lips before he even registers it.

**Author's Note:**

> No smut yet, but I think this is a good place to start!! Will be updating as I can :3c


End file.
